


it's like sex, isn't it?

by lightningrani



Category: The Heir Chronicles - Cinda Williams Chima
Genre: F/M, at all!, but sex is basically the whole point of the fic!, i don't know whether to be proud or worried, i wrote a fic about sex without describing the act at all, there's no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrani/pseuds/lightningrani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it wasn't clear which was the foreplay: the kissing or the music.</p><p>(Sorcerer's Heir spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's like sex, isn't it?

**Author's Note:**

> The title's a direct quote from the Enchanter's Heir. If I did ship tags, this would be my ship name. A fic needed to be written.

Sometimes, it wasn't clear which was the foreplay: the kissing or the music.

They would kiss, sometimes, before they would go on stage, in a quiet secluded spot. While Jonah was getting better with touch, he would always be nervous doing around people he didn't trust. Sometimes, it would be soft and tentative, like they just started dating.

On those nights, people would comment that the band played well- there was rarely a time where Fault Tolerant didn't play well, especially with Jonah Kinlock and Emma Greenwood on board- but it was nothing special. Nothing stood out.

Those weren't the nights where Emma got laid. Those were the nights he held onto her, almost afraid as if she would go away forever, as if she was the fragile one, not him.

No, it was the nights where he kissed her hungrily, as if he was trying to taste her very soul, the essence of who she was, before they went on stage. The nights where the rest of the band gave knowing looks when they came out, hair and clothes all rumpled. The nights where Emma wanted to say, 'Fuck it', and head to somewhere secluded to get things sorted out.

Emma may love her music, yes, but she had needs. 

And it showed, oh it showed in the music. The songs they would play, the way they would weave in and out of the melodies, the way the chords would sing from Emma's guitar and the notes would roll off Jonah's tongue... the music was filled with desire and longing and heat, and that heat? Burned the audience with pleasure. Those were the nights where people would endlessly yell for encores, where the merch table would be swamped with people flooding to get the CDs, where people would come to hit on Jonah, who, even after the song, was oozing sex appeal and lust.

Those were also the nights where the two of them would leave as early as possible. 

Jonah slid into the seat next to Emma, giving her that knowing look. He would remove his fingerless gloves and slowly run his hand down Emma's cheek.

Sometimes, Emma caved right then and there. Her truck did have a large backseat, after all. But most of the time, she would simply smile back in return, and carefully kiss Jonah's fingertips as a response.

He shuddered. Jonah never could get over people touching his fingers. Especially when it was her.

She would drive as fast as she dared, back to wherever she was staying. Jonah, knowing perfectly well how Emma would react if he distracted her, kept his hands in his lap, looking out the window. It was completely silent. Emma always turned off the radio before these kinds of trips.

The silence would continue until they entered her apartment. She would spend some time getting ready, while Jonah would look for her speakers, and pick the song for the night.

In the beginning, he would always pick "Untouchable", as if he was trying to send her a message, to give her a chance to get away. Emma yelled at him for a bit when she figured that out. After that, he stuck with the songs which fit his mood, all dark and sexy, lust oozing out every chord.

Now, he would always pick their song. The song that she sang on that day in the Keep.

The first time it happened, she froze, her eyes filling with tears of happiness. That song meant something to them. And playing it, right now, right before he pushed her against the nearest vertical service, kissing the daylights out of her?

It might as well be a declaration of love.

She never got fazed by the music choice, now. It was Emma who would corner him, start the kissing, first slow and steady, then more heated as time went on. Jonah liked that; he knew that he could trust her.

It always hurt her to realize that Jonah could never trust himself with these things.

But eventually, slowly, his worries would disappear, and things would get heated. Fast.

Those were the nights where she had the best sex in her life. Those were the times where Jonah had the best sex in his life. It was like the passion of the music, the passion of that kiss, all of that pent-up desire and want, found an exit in this one act. 

Emma wished that those nights would never end. Then again, every good song needed to wrap up eventually.

Eventually, she had to ask. She had to know why it always turned out like this. Neither event separately led to anything as good as this. But why together? Why now?

Jonah just gave her a little smile, and carefully pushed her hair away from her face, running his fingers down her cheek once again, like he did in the car. Maybe, he said, it was because the music reminded him of why he loved her in the first place.


End file.
